Well, well, well, the peanut butter thief has returned to the scene of the crime…

… leaving behind my peanut butter (some of it anyway). As you will recall, I never thought I would see that little Rubbermaid container again. I was wrong.

I also thought I would feel differently if I ever saw it again; that a sense of relief would rush over my body; that perhaps I had missed it in my previous two highly extensive searches; I was wrong again. Instead the butterknife markings visible on the outside of the container, told a story of a soul-less creature who had helped themselves to more than half of my peanut butter.  Why they put it back is beyond me. I very clearly could not eat the remaining spread, it was too risky. Generally speaking when it comes to exposing myself to the possibility of contracting a communicable disease, I tend to be overly cautious. So, peanut butter pillager, at the very least, you could have cleaned out the container before tossing it back in the fridge. You could have also left me a heart-felt apology post-it note that read something like:

“I’m sorry I was so selfish and have a penchant for thievery. I thought that since I deprived you and your growing child of peanut butter for your rice cakes and such, the least I could do was wash out your container so as to not inconvenience you further, given you can’t eat the remaining contents as they contain trace amounts of my saliva, as well as remnants of my inconsideration. Please accept my apology.” 

Nope, instead it was put back in the fridge, like nothing had happened. Only something had happened, they took my contingency protein supply and in the process they compromised the sacrosanctity of the communal fridge honour system. I suppose I can now relate, on some level at least, to how the three bears must have felt when that little girl B&E’d their little cottage and used their stuff. I bet they never felt safe in their home again, particularly given that humans are a bear’s number one predator (that is so quickly forgotten because she was an innocent looking wee human). Goldilocks entered their home without their consent, ate from each of their bowls of porridge, sat in each of their chairs and then tested out each of their three beds. Creepy AF if you ask me.

On that day I took the container, I washed it clean of its contents, and I simply shook my head. What else is a gal to do in a situation like this? It is just peanut butter after all, not to mention when I realized it was gone in the first place I made peace with the fact that the inconsiderate walk among us, often undetected.

Stay great!